


The Warrior's Prologue and Tale

by MrProphet



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	The Warrior's Prologue and Tale

If Merry had found it difficult to be accepted among the Riders of Rohan at first, after the first night’s camp they had taken him to their bosoms. He only had a few herbs with him, but it was enogh to turn a blandly robust stew into a hearty meal to fill the belly and warm the blood.

“Truly, Master Hobitla, you are a sorcerer or wizard,” Halgard declared.

“Not so,” Merry protested. “There is no more magic in cookery than there is in brewing or the cultivation of pipeweed. It is an art, like any other.”

“And one in which you are well-versed,” Durnhelm noted, to a general chorus of approval. Merry glanced at Durnhelm for a moment. She still wore her mail hood over her long, golden hair, but surely it must be obvious to everyone around the fire that she was no common trooper, but a lady; the Lady Éowyn, no less. It was in her bearing and her voice as much as in her face or her hidden hair.

As if sensing his thought, the lady turned and winked at Merry, then she guided his gaze with her own to another fire some short distance away, where a slender trooper was sharing a joke with  _her_  comrades.

“It is not the custom of the Rohirrim for shieldmaidens to ride to war with the men,” Halgard told Merry, “but neither is it our custom to deny valour. Thus, in all our riding, none shall notice the lady, nor her squire with his little stature and great heart.”

“I have counted at least fifty other women in the host,” Éowyn said. “It is more than might be expected, but these are uncommon times, Master Meriadoc.”

“Indeed they are,” Merry sighed. “I suppose that even one Hobbit is more than you are accustomed to ride with.”

“Aye,” Halgard agreed. “Although if they are all as skilled with the pot as you are, we shall have to form a regiment of them.”

“You are surprised that our women fight?” Éowyn asked.

“It is not something that I have often seen,” he admitted, not wishing to offend her.

“This is a hard land,” Éowyn sighed. “The women of Rohan have learned through suffering not to rely on men for protection. There is a story of Rohan which tells of this. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes please,” said Merry eagerly, for all Hobbit love tales of the old days.

*

‘In Rohan of old there lived a woman named Ælfrida, who was fortunate enough to marry a man who not only met her father’s approval, but who loved her and was loved by her in return. This man was a trader and often away about his business, and Ælfrida kept their house for his return and stood ready to defend it to the death if need be, for like all women of the Mark she was as skilled at arms as her husband.

‘It happened that in his travels, Ælfrida’s husband met a man named Galhalt, a rogue and a rascal with a ready wit and a pleasing countenance, whose company was valued by men and by women, but who won the lasting love of none. In the company of their comrades they fell to drinking and talking, and as the wine flowed, Galhalt boasted that there was not a woman in the Riddermark whom he could not seduce.

‘“Nonsense,” Ælfrida’s husband insisted. “No wife of the Mark would betray her husband for a handsome face and a smile.”

‘“Many a wife has done so,” Galhalt replied.

‘“Well, my wife would not. I wager all I own on it.”

‘Ælfrida’s husband knew that this was a boast as foolish as Galhalt’s own, but once made it could not be taken back.

‘Galhalt was all confidence as he said: “I shall take that wager, staking all that is mine against all that is yours, and bring you proof of my success before you can return from your business.”

‘“You shall lose you challenge, and my wife shall deal harshly with you; see if she doesn’t,” Ælfrida’s husband replied, but the wager cast a shadow of doubt into his heart and he soon retired to bed.

‘Galhalt wasted no time in sleep, but rode at once to the village where Ælfrida kept her house and set about making enquiries of the neighbours. What he learned gave him cause to doubt himself, for he was told everywhere that Ælfrida was a model of modesty, yet quick-tempered and harsh in her dealings with rakes and flatterers.

‘ _Still_ , he told himself.  _If the woman is unimpeachable, the husband remains a fool. If I can not overcome her by charm, I can at least overcome him by my wits._

‘And so he set about seducing not the lady, but her maidservant, and so inveigled himself into the house. By practicing on the poor girl’s credulity and fear he first cajoled and later coerced her into secreting him within her mistress’s room, from which vantage he watched her undress for bed and made note of certain distinguishing marks by which the lady could be identified beyond a doubt.

‘As Ælfrida slept, the intruder stole out of hiding and slipped from her finger a golden ring, and cut from her head a single golden braid. With these tokens in his keeping, he slipped from the house and rode back to where he knew the merchant was to be found.

‘He presented himself to Ælfrida’s husband as proud as a peacock and laid the braid and the ring on the table. “See,” he said. “I have lain with your wife and she has given me these keepsakes.”

‘At that the husband stood up and drew his sword. “Lies!” he declared. “You have stolen this ring and taken a braid of her hair from the barber’s floor.”

‘“Is that so?” Galhalt asked, and he went on to describe the body of Ælfrida in such intimate detail that her husband could not doubt that he had been closer to her than any man save her husband ought to have been.

‘With a heavy heart, the merchant signed over his title to all that he owned and penned a brief missive to his wife, which read:  _By poor faith a kingdom may be lost and so it is with me. I never wish to see you again; take the little that is yours and go before the new master of your house takes possession._

‘On reading this, Ælfrida was devastated, for she knew herself innocent of any crime. Yet there was nothing that she could do to stop this new master taking possession of her home and she could not stay in his house unless she became his mistress, and this she had no wish to do. Instead, she cut her beautiful, golden hair short, girt herself in her husband’s clothes and rode out in the guise of a man to find him.

‘She came to the tavern where he often stayed, but found him gone. The talk of the tavern was of the poor merchant with the faithless wife who had lost his fortune in a wager over her loyalty.

‘“Let this be a lesson, boy,” the tavernkeeper told Ælfrida. “Never put your trust in a woman’s fidelity.”

‘“Nor in a man’s wit and goodness,” she replied sharply.

‘After that, she simply sought to be as far from Rohan as possible. She rode south until she reached the sea and bartered her horse for passage to the south. On the sea, however, the crew of the ship tried to rob her and she was forced to fling herself over the side into the waves.

‘She woke on a strange shore and, still disguised as a youth, she walked until she reached a town. Here she was taken for a eunuch and she learned that she had fetched up in Near Harad. In this place she had many adventures, which by her wits and bravery, her skill at arms and her wisdom in keeping a house, led her to find favour with the King of Harad, and to take a post as a high official in his court.

‘In such a capacity the King called Ælfrida to his side one day and said to her: “Fair One” – for so they called her in that land – “a delegation has arrived from the King of Rohan, which I know to be your country. A young lord has come with his advisor, his riders and his fool and I wish to make them welcome. Go down into the merchants’ quarter and find others of your race. Buy suitable food and invite suitable guests to entertain this lord.

‘“My King, I shall,” Ælfrida agreed, although her heart quailed at the thought of seeing her countrymen again.

‘She went down into the merchants’ quarter and bought food with the King’s purse, enough to feed an army. Then she went to the taverns to see what merchants she might invite to make the lord feel welcome. There were several good men drinking in the taverns and she invited them all, but one man told her:

‘“If you wish to entertain your guests, you must invite Galhalt, although there is a danger that if he drinks too much he may become indiscreet.”

‘So Ælfrida sought out this Galhalt and found that he was, as the merchant had said, a witty and amusing companion, although somewhat too full of himself for her liking.

‘“In truth, I have been a merchant only seven years,” he confessed. “I won my business in a wager with a poor fool who trusted too much in his wife.”

‘“Oh yes,” Ælfrida said, struggling to hide her anger.

‘“Yes,” Galhalt laughed, too full of himself to notice. “He bet me his fortune that I could not seduce his lady.”

‘“And you did?”

‘”No!” Galhalt burst out laughing. “That’s the best part. I concealed myself in her room, spied on her and stole from her, and took the spoils of that crime as proof of  _her_  wrongdoing. He handed over all his chattels and took to the streets as a beggar. Now he is quite mad and serves as fool to the King’s heir.”

‘With an effort, Ælfrida forced herself to laugh. “My King enjoys such tales of quick-wittedness,” she told him. “Come to the feast tonight and tell your story again.”

‘She hurried home with her heart racing, so as to stand by the King’s side when he welcomed his guests. Sure enough, as soon as she saw the poor fool by the lord’s side, she knew her husband and for all the wrong she had been done, her heart bled for him. But still she hid her feelings and bided her time.

‘That night, the wine flowed freely for the Rohirrim, although the King and his household did not partake. When the food was all eaten, the King stood and called for Galhalt to come forward. “My steward tells me that you have a story to amuse us,” he said.

‘Galhalt, flattered and drunk, immediately repeated the whole tale of his deception. When he was done, he roared with laughter, but the King looked on him with a dark gaze and the young lord of the Rohirrim frowned.

‘“This tale does not please,” the King said. “My lord, what punishment would this man receive in the Mark for such a callous crime?”

‘“He would forfeit all that he has to the man whom he wronged,” the lord replied. “And as by chance that man is the fool at my side.”

‘“Then let it be so,” the King replied, “and let this villain be cast out among the dogs.” So saying, he turned to the fool. “What do you say, fool?”

‘The fool turned his sad eyes to the King. “What good is a fortune to me?” he asked. “All my treasure was a woman whom I have wronged beyond forgiveness. Give all that would be mine to her, if you can, and let me be punished as a faithless husband who trusted too much in what seemed to be.”

‘“My King,” Ælfrida said. “May I beg a boon?”

‘“You have served me well for seven years, Fair One. Ask and you shall receive.”

‘Ælfrida bowed before her King. “My King, grant me leave to declare the punishment for this man, for his crime is close to my heart.”

‘“As you wish,” the King agreed.

‘And so Ælfrida turned to her husband and said: “Before I decree your fate, I must have three answers from you. Answer truthfully, or I shall have the court executioner strike your head from your shoulders. Do you understand?”

‘Her husband nodded his head wearily.

‘“Then tell me first, did you love your wife?”

‘“Always.”

‘“Then do you love her still?”

‘“With all my heart.”

‘”And lastly, what would you do if she stood before you in this court? Would you take her back?”

‘Her husband looked at her in horror. ”Take her back?” he asked. “How could  _I_  take  _her_  back? If she were here, I would fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me, for the crime was mine.”

‘Ælfrida smiled and took his hands. “You need not kneel nor beg,” she told him. “Only ask, and she is yours.”

‘Her husband looked up at her and knew her eyes. “Oh, my Ælfrida,” he gasped. “Oh, forgive me.”

‘And she loosed her hair from her turban and bent her head to kiss her husband’s lips. “I forgive you,” she told him.

‘The King rewarded Ælfrida well for her long service to him, and he rewarded her husband for his humility, so that they returned to Rohan more prosperous than before, and in high favour with the Lord Éofor, who was moved by Ælfrida’s wisdom, patience and compassion.’

*

“So you see, Meriadoc, the women of Rohan know that sometimes you have to look after yourself, because there will be no men to look after you, and that sometimes you will have to look after yourself, and your menfolk too.” Éowyn lay down with her head on her pack. “Rest well, Merry.”

“Yes, my lady,” Merry replied, but he watched her sadly as she went to sleep, his heart aching for the sorrow in her voice when she spoke of love. “And may you find what you are looking for at Minas Tirith.


End file.
